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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257132">The Mother</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGOM/pseuds/IGOM'>IGOM</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Claude is a stubborn old man, F/M, It says original child but he's an adult, Religion building</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:42:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGOM/pseuds/IGOM</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year, Byleth has made a trip to the capital of Almyra to visit her husband, which started a tradition in the city of children racing to tell the king of her coming. Many years later, she and her husband reflect on that and other changes in the world around them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Mother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a funny thing, the arc of human history. To study it, it seemed prosaic, predictable, the hindsight making things obvious that should perhaps have been in the heat of the moment. But Byleth had lived a long time, and seeing the development of things that had not existed when she was born, and especially events that are the direct result of her existence, well, it never failed to delight and leave her in awe of the human capacity for change.</p><p>When she first came to the gates of Shezzi, the capital of Almyra, the ritual running of the children had not even been dreamed of; impossible, as her coming was the reason for the children to wait at the gates day after day from the first day of the Ethereal Moon, breathless in anticipation for the arrival of the green-haired woman so they could race each other to the palace. The first to come upon the king of Almyra and tell him she had come would be rewarded with a silver coin and a seat at the head table for the feast.</p><p>In Fodlan, they worshipped Byleth as goddess-on-earth, the progenitor god reborn, and all other manner of names and titles. In Almyra, however, there were many gods and goddesses, nearly as many as there were grains of sand in the deserts, drops of water in the cool oases, stars in the clear sky that stretched from horizon to horizon. When they explained who she was and proved it as her command of Sothis' powers grew, the Almyrans were more than happy to adopt her into their pantheon as one goddess among many. Partly because of some translation of the Seiros scriptures, or perhaps from other factors, the Almyrans didn't call her by any of those names popular in Fodlan.</p><p>Instead, they called her the Mother.</p><p>This year, she was late; several days late, and she wondered if there would be any children to run this year, or if they had given up hope of her coming. Byleth uncovered her face when the gate guards asked her; the veil was more for utility than fashion, as her skin still burned in the scorching crossing of the deserts and stubby grasslands, even after all these years. She waited on her horse as the gate was unbarred and opened. It was a lovely city, in its own way; whitewashed walls to ward off the heat, bright silk awnings fluttering in the slight breeze in the market. Different than the great cities of Fodlan, but she loved it at least as much as Fhirdiad or Enbarr, and perhaps even Derdriu.</p><p>There they were; urchins and merchants' children, nobles and commoners alike, crowded and waiting. A great whoop went up in the company, and she smiled, leaving her face uncovered as the cry rippled. "The Mother is here!" A thunder of feet, passersby shouting cautions to the racing children; shouting, but smiling. She walked her horse through the streets to the palace in the wake of the mob.</p><p>Some of the older children walked with her; they had grown out of the thrill of the mad dash to the palace and knew there were rewards to be had for walking with the Mother. Sweets wrapped in wax paper, coins from Fodlan, and other little trinkets appeared in her hands and distributed amongst her honor guard. They chattered in Almyran, a pleasant language that flowed off the tongue. The adults stood aside as they passed, though a couple reached out to touch her horse or her sleeve with whispers of supplication or requests of blessings. There would be time enough to bless the faithful; now she was eager to reach the king.</p><p>The palace of Shezzi rose like a mirage amongst the winding roads; though it was the same white masonry, there was still something regal about it. She saw a man at the top of the steps, watching her approach. More children surrounded him, some crying and one triumphant as the clear winner of this year's prize. Green eyes, straight dark hair, and a smile that made her think of a cocky young man she knew once many years ago. Malik the Goddess-Born, king of Almyra. "Mother."</p><p>"Son." They embraced, chaste kisses on cheeks in the style of Almyrans between family members. "Just you this year?"</p><p>"You have a new grandchild as of yesterday, and Hanna is not yet strong enough to be in public yet. If you're after the old man, well, he's in one of his moods."</p><p>They walked up the palace steps together. "Still working on his book?"</p><p>He laughed. "He held the baby for about an hour, and then muttered some nonsense about running out of time. He's been shut up since. I think he's upset you were delayed."</p><p>Ah. "I'll see him first, then. Hanna will no doubt want to make herself up a bit before she's seen."</p><p>Malik shrugged. "You've seen her in worse states, but she'll appreciate the sentiment." </p><p>They parted there, he to the royal apartment and she to her own rooms in the palace. She shook off her followers with more surprises from her sleeves, and she was alone by the time she stood before the door. A knock to give him fair warning. "I asked not to be disturbed. If I'm hungry, I know the way to the kitchens, thank you." That voice had not changed much in the last half-century or so; how she had missed it.</p><p>"It's me. I'm coming in." Before he could protest, she opened the door.  The lone occupant was at a desk, hunched over a stack of papers, pen in hand. He didn't turn around or acknowledge her entrance, not until she pulled a chair beside the desk and sat down. His hair had long turned white, his face lined with age, but there was the same fervor in his eyes; when Claude set out to do something, damned if it wouldn't happen. "Hello, husband."</p><p>"Wife." At last, he set the pen down and capped his ink, leaning back against his chair. He watched as she removed the veil from her head, and took a lock of her hair in his fingers, the green bright against his skin, unchanged from her youth. "You're late."</p><p>"Sandstorm. Lost nearly a week." She glanced at his work. "How are you feeling?"</p><p>"Still here." There was no bitterness or rancor in his tone, only a quiet resignation that he had become an old man while she still bloomed in full youth.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow. "Malik said you seemed out of sorts when Hanna gave birth."</p><p>"Malik talks too much. Yes, I know the irony of what I just said." He sighed and put his hands behind his head. "Every time another grandchild is born or you come home, I'm forced to remember that one day you'll be without me, and what if that day comes when you're not here? I know you have to go back to Fodlan and be holy and I'm in no state to travel like you do anymore, but." He stopped himself.</p><p>Byleth caressed his cheek. "I hope to be with you in the end." Malik knew to send a letter to Garreg Mach express if she was in Fodlan if he took ill, but they both knew there was always a chance.</p><p>He kissed the heel of her palm. "And this book might be the death of me. I told so many versions of the same story over the years even I don't remember the truth of half my life anymore."</p><p>She knew he was only a little put out. "Let me read it when you're done, I remember it better than you. After all, I wasn't the one telling lies."</p><p>A petulant little huff was her reward for the teasing. "I had very good reasons to edit the truth back then."</p><p>"I know." Their hands tangled together on the desk, she glanced at the papers again. "Does it bother you so much that others have told your story? You could just let it be."</p><p>They had this disagreement every year, and she knew he what he would say with the same half-mocking look on his face. "You know very well I can't. My whole life others made judgements about me based on their prejudices and ignorant opinions." He gestured at the desk. "This is my last attempt to be able to make any changes to those prejudices."</p><p>"That's not true." He looked at her, curious. "Do you remember when it was just our children who waited for me at the gate and ran through the streets to tell you I'd come back to Shezzi? Then, I was just your odd Fodlander queen who was supposedly a goddess, but now my return is a holy day in Almyra." She could tell he was considering her words. "You've changed this country more than most could ever dream, and you changed Fodlan as well. Just because the work isn't done doesn't mean you've failed."</p><p>His hands tightened on hers, and he kissed her knuckles. "How do I make it through a day without you to help me make sense of myself?" He leaned forward and kissed her. It never failed; his kisses were always like sunlight, even after all these years.</p><p>Papers straightened and put away in a locked drawer, he pulled her to her feet to exit their rooms. "Have you seen our granddaughter? She's the sweetest little button I've laid eyes on, and already looks like a troublemaker, too."</p>
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